


Cold

by razorbladecass



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, I guess????, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6420322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razorbladecass/pseuds/razorbladecass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ringing stopped, and so did everything else. His ice blue eyes flicked up to meet a pair of molten brown ones. He swallowed thickly, barely choking out the one word that was caught on his tongue.</p><p>“<em>Help</em>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Help

**Author's Note:**

> I had a bad day and wrote this.
> 
> I didn't reference either of the boys, but it's implied.
> 
> I'm sorry if this is really sad and everyone hates me. umu
> 
> Enjoy!

The coolness of the blade swept over his skin; he felt alive. So alive. Feeling the blood trickle down his arm as he placed slice after slice onto his scar-littered pale skin. He soaked in the feeling of finally allowing such happiness to wash over him. It was life changing, really. He assumed that it was close to that of a drug addiction. You craved the cut once it was gone, yearned for it with every waking moment. He needed the release that the object gave - no, _allowed_ \- him. With every clean cut that was placed upon his ivory skin, he felt more alive.

But he had also never felt more cold.

 _Cold_.

Cold like the snow that hit his face as he walked down the street.

Cold like the water when he first jumped into the shower.

Cold like the blade that he held in his trembling hand.

 _Cold_.

He stared down at the object, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny metal. He looked so… _Cold_. His eyes, icy blue and dead. His skin, pale and dry. His lips, aching and cracked.

Then came the tears.

The liquid was hot on his cold skin, making him flinch. He stared down at the object in his hand; the object that had quickly and mercilessly taken over his life. The life that once nearly bursted at the seams and shone bright in his eyes.  
That life.  
_Dead_.  
Because of this inanimate object that he held in his hand at this very moment.

 _Dead_.  
_Cold_.

He quickly dropped the knife, gasping quietly as it clanged obnoxiously against the tile floor of his bathroom.  
What had he done?

He looked down at his arm, eyes opening wide in fear and disbelief.  
Painted across his once beautiful ivory skin were multiple deep, angry red cuts; lined up almost perfectly down his forearm.

 _Cold._  
_Dead._  
_Cold._

He blinked hard, feeling hot tears drip down onto his now red-splattered arm.  
What had he _done_?

He quickly wrapped his arm in bandage and sprinted into his bedroom. Slamming the door behind him, he leapt onto his bed and practically hid under his covers.  
But he knew that the monsters that followed him weren't so easily gotten rid of, seeing as they lived in the darkest parts of his own head.

 _Cold._  
_Dead._  
_Lurking._

Always lurking. The monsters constantly followed him. Told him the terrible things he needed to do to himself in order to stay sane.  
But he already knew he was too far gone.

Trembling hands wrapped around the blanket above him, slowly pulling it away from his cold skin. He stood, wobbly legs barely bringing him to his destination that was his desk. He plopped down in the chair and quickly clicked and typed away.

 _Help._  
_Cold._

That was it. It was him. He had known it all along, somewhere in the back of his head. He knew.

Shaking hands fell into his cold lap as he awaited an answer. The dull ringing sound made him cringe. He wondered if he should just forget about this.

 _Help_.

The ringing stopped, and so did everything else. His ice blue eyes flicked up to meet a pair of molten brown ones. He swallowed thickly, barely choking out the one word that was caught on his tongue.

“ _Help_.”


	2. Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jack? What's wrong?” The words were quiet. He wasn't sure if Mark was whispering or if the sound of his own heart pumping was too loud.  
> Either way, it was quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people wanted more of this. So here it is.
> 
> Enjoy!

He felt cold, again. Not the same kind of cold as before, though. This was more of a blood-running-cold cold. He felt nervous. He felt tired. He felt scared. He felt that Mark would be upset or mad and he didn't want that at all. Not from the man that he had come to know and love. Not now. Not like this.

“Jack? What's wrong?” The words were quiet. He wasn't sure if Mark was whispering or if the sound of his own heart pumping was too loud.  
Either way, it was quiet.

 _Quiet_.

In a matter of seconds, everything was quiet. For once, he couldn't hear the nagging voices in his brain or the sound of his heart beating too fast. All he could hear were the raindrops ticking on his window.  
All felt well.

But he knew better. He knew that something would come up and this moment of final peace would be ripped away from his grasp.

“Jack?” His eyes flicked up to meet those of his best friend; his love.

He chewed at his lip, not knowing exactly what to say. Instead of speaking and breaking the perfect silence that had built around him, he simply lifted his injured arm.

All color drained from Mark’s face and his eyes burned with worry and sadness and something that Jack couldn't place.  
All at once, the silence ended and he felt cold.

_Cold._  
_Loud._

The voices. They were loud, too loud. His first instinct was to bring his hands to his ears in an attempt to block the noise, but he knew it wouldn't work.

“Jack…” The voices quieted again as Mark spoke; his voice practically dripping with sadness. “I-I…” The American closed his mouth and cast his eyes downward, taking in a deep breath. Jack felt the coldness creep back up his spine.

“ _Why_?”

Jack blinked. Hard.  
What did Mark mean?  
Did he mean why did he do it?  
Or why did he call him?  
Or why didn't he tell him before?  
The questions filled his head, along with the voices. He needed it to stop. He needed Mark.

_Stop._  
_Why._

Jack swallowed harshly. His throat was dry and it was hard to breathe.  
“W-why what?” He cringed at the sound of his own voice.

Mark exhaled through his nose.  
“I… I'm not sure.” He bit his lip and tapped a finger on his desk. “I guess… Why'd you do it?”

 _Why_.

The words resonated in his skull and he felt lightheaded. He didn't really _know_. It was just an escape. There was no real reason to it, other than that the voices told him to.  
But he didn't really feel like being locked up in an insane asylum.  
He chose to shrug.

Mark sighed and looked up at Jack. “How don't you know?” He almost sounded…  
_Angry_.

“I jus’ don't have a reason…” Jack wasn't even sure if Mark could hear him with how soft he had spoken.

“But… _Why_?”

 _Why_.

He couldn't even answer that question for himself, what made Mark think he could for him?

“I don't know…” He looked up at Mark to see him shake his head.

“Are you okay?”

 _Okay_.

The words felt like a bee sting, or maybe a kick to the stomach.  
Either way, they hurt.  
_Okay_? Was he _okay_? How could he be _okay_?  He had spent the last year of his life putting slice after slice on his arm.

Having nightmares every night.  
Trying to get imaginary voices to leave his head.  
_How could he be okay?_

But Mark didn't know those things.  
He didn't know of how Jack had struggled. He didn't know about the layers of scars on his skin. He didn't know about the voices or the nightmares or the sadness.  
He didn't know any of it.

Jack only nodded.

Mark didn't look satisfied.

“I-I am.” His voice shook and he scratched at his wrist under the desk.

“Jack…”

 _Soft_.

Mark's voice was surprisingly soft. Just a second ago, signs of anger were etched into his features.  
Now…

“I'm so sorry I couldn't help.”

 _Fall_.

Jack’s heart shattered when he saw the tears drip from Mark's cheeks.

_Fall._  
_Cold._


	3. Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark frowned, again.  
> Jack’s heart stopped beating, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Sorry this took so long to update. I've had writer's block.  
> I apologize deeply.
> 
> Enjoy!

All color drained from Jack’s face. He felt a pang of sadness in his chest. There was a lump in his throat. The bridge of his nose stung. His shirt was getting wet from his own tears.  
Jack was cold, again.

He attempted to swallow, but it was difficult. He tried to clear his throat, but no sound was made. He made an effort to look at Mark, but it seemed like an impossible task.

 _Cold._  
_Sad_.

The only word Jack could find that described how he felt was sad. It was a different sad, though. Not like the nights that he laid awake and cried. Not like when he would resort to the blade to try and fix his broken self.  
This was different.  
Almost like remorse.

This was _his fault_. Mark was crying because of _him_.  
But he couldn’t help.  
There was nothing he could do to make Mark happy again and to dry his tears.

 _Guilty._  
_Sad_.

The pain in his chest worsened when he heard Mark squeak out a “ _Jack_?” He tried his best not to break out into sobs.

The Irishman took a deep breath and lifted his head, looking at Mark through thick lashes. His heart seemed to tighten in his chest.

Mark looked so _sad_. And it was no one’s fault but his own. This was a bad idea.

 _Regret._  
_Sad_.

Jack thought that maybe he should end the call right then and there and be done with it all. Just go lie in his nice, comfy, warm bed and forget that any of this ever happened.  
But it wasn’t that easy.

Mark cleared his throat and sniffled quietly before letting out a heart-wrenching sob of, “Please, Jack…”

Jack winced. _Physically winced_. This all felt like too much. He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest at any moment. He didn’t know what to do or say or even _think_.

“W-what?” The Irishman finally asked after what felt like hours.

“I-I…” Mark’s stuttering only made Jack want to end the call even more. He didn’t want to hear his friend's sad cries or shaky words. _Especially_ when it was his fault.  
And only his fault.

 _Guilty_.

Mark swallowed audibly and took a deep breath before he wiped at his cheeks.

“I need to see you.”

Jack’s heart leapt into his throat. Did Mark really mean he needed to _actually_ see him? In the flesh and blood?

Mark frowned when Jack didn’t respond.

Jack felt cold blood rush through his veins.

_Cold._  
_Worried._

Jack was worried about Mark. Why did he need to see him? This wasn’t a big, important thing. At least, to _Jack_ it wasn’t.

He had never really tried to look at it from a different perspective. This has just always been second nature to him. He didn’t realize that this could _possibly_ hurt someone.  
Not until he thought about the exact same circumstances, only switched.

Another burst of cold blood. Another stream of tears. Another choked sob.  
Imagining Mark with these cuts down his own arms made Jack feel sick.

 _Cold._  
_Guilty_.  
_Sad_.

Through his sobs, he managed to croak out an, “I’m so sorry, Mark.” The Irishman hung his head in his hands, letting his sobs escape him freely. “I-I didn’t rea-lize. I’m s-so sorry, M-Mark.”

He heard Mark shushing and whispering sweet, gentle words to him. Though tears still fell, he quieted himself. Only a sniffle could be heard once in a while.

“I-I’m so sorry…,” he repeated, looking up at Mark with wet eyes.

Mark gave him a sad smile. “You don’t need to be sorry, Jack.” The Irishman only nodded. He wouldn’t -couldn’t- argue with Mark right now. He felt drained.

 _Tired._  
_Cold_.

“I’m tired,” he muttered, wiping away a few stray tears.

“Go to sleep.”

“I always have bad dreams.”

Mark frowned, again.  
Jack’s heart stopped beating, again.

“Would it help if I just stayed on until you fell asleep?”

Jack felt a smile rise to his lips.  
The first real, genuine smile he had given in a very long time.

Jack nodded, standing up and walking the short distance to his bed.

 _Tired_.

Once he was laid down and snuggled under his blanket, he was out in seconds.

There was only one word -or name, rather- that danced in his head before then.

 _Mark_.


	4. Nervous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After knocking three quick raps to the door, he brought his hand stiffly to his side to keep himself from biting his nails.  
> There was no going back, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) I've never taken a psychology class.  
> 2.) I've never been on a plane.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jack chewed his already short nails as he looked out the window. He was scared. He was nauseous. He was tired.  
But most of all, he was nervous.

_Nervous_.

With his unoccupied hand, he tapped quickly at the armrest beside him. He stared out the window and tried to focus on anything except his situation. It was nearly impossible, though. All that was around him were clouds.

_Light._

He felt light. Fragile. Airy.  
Almost like a cloud.  
Being up so high in the air gave that illusion, he supposed.

_Nervous_.

Jack pulled at his sleeve. He had noticed himself doing this very often. He guessed it was because he didn't want anyone to see his scars.  
But maybe it was a psychological thing.

He remembers back to when he was in high school; his psychology class, really.  
He remembers learning about little things that people did when they were nervous.  
Pulling on their sleeves was somewhere on that list, he was sure.

_Sick_.

Jack felt his stomach lurch. He felt like he might vomit.  
He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to think of something that would make him happy.

_Mark_.

He felt his cheeks heat up and a more pleasant feeling in his stomach that he classified as “butterflies”.

It was very strange to him that the first thought of happiness was Mark, but it didn't surprise him at all. He had found that he had become very fond of the handsome American. He felt his cheeks grow even warmer at the thought.

_Mark._  
 _Nervous_.

He faintly heard a voice over the PA system and looked around. He noticed that he was nearly alone.  
But it didn't seem likely that there would be many people on a flight to LA at 5 in the morning.  
He sighed quietly.  
His stomach hurt, again.

_Afraid._   
_Cold._

When he felt the plane come to a shaky stop, he grabbed onto the armrests for dear life.  
He breathed deeply.  
He hated flying.

When he heard the pilot speak and saw the door being opened, he felt sick to his stomach, again.  
He wasn't sure if he could do this.

_Cold_.

There was a chill in the air as he checked his phone for the time. 6a.m.  
He swallowed harshly, but told himself that it would be okay.

After knocking three quick raps to the door, he brought his hand stiffly to his side to keep himself from biting his nails.  
There was no going back, now.

_Nervous_.

Jack chewed his lip as he waited, tapping his foot lightly on the ground.

The door swung open and he felt his heart stop. “ _Jack_?”


	5. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack shrugged, realizing that he should probably reply to his friend's question.  
> “You said you needed to see me. So, here I am.” He brought his arms out to the side, pointing out that he was indeed real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh, this was meant to be a one shot.  
> Now look at it.
> 
> Enjoy!

He felt strong arms wrap around his cold body.  
It was strange, yet endearing.

Jack never was one for hugs. Sure, he'd hug a family member or a fan just for the sake of being polite. But he wouldn't be enjoying it.

This hug, however, was different. He actually _liked_ this one. He hated to admit that his heart dropped into his stomach when he felt those warm arms leave him.

_Worry_.

He noticed worry in the American’s eyes.  
He didn't know if that was good or bad.  
He guessed the latter.

“What are you _doing_ here?”

That deep baritone always had Jack falling into a trance. Ever since the first time he had heard it speak his name, he knew he was in love.

_Love_.

He internally flinched at the word.  
He never really was one for “love”, either.

Jack shrugged, realizing that he should probably reply to his friend's question.  
“You said you needed to see me. So, here I am.” He brought his arms out to the side, pointing out that he was indeed real.

The other gave a small smile and stepped out of the doorway. “Come in.”  
Jack gave a quick nod and grabbed his bag off of the porch, walking into the house.

_Happy_.

The place smelled of pure vanilla and happiness. He found himself smiling at this. He turned back to his friend. “Sorry if I woke ya.” A pang of guilt filled his stomach.

The other brought his hands up defensively. “No no, it's fine! I mean, you _did_. But it's fine! I don't really care. I was having some weird dream about man-eating spiders, anyway.” He chuckled lightly, almost immediately biting his lip afterward.  
Jack smiled, again.

_Love_.

A feeling that he could only describe as love welled up inside his chest.  
He cringed.

He cleared his throat, if only to drift his thoughts away to their previous place. “Where should I put this?” He gestured down at his bag.

“Oh!” The American grabbed the bag from him, shocking Jack slightly. “Follow me. I'll take it up to the spare bedroom.” Jack nodded and followed the other up the stairs.

_Normal_.

The Irishman stepped into the room, looking around.  
It was normal.  
Bed placed normally.  
Dresser placed normally.  
TV placed normally.  
All normal.  
Something he wished _he_ was.

He snapped his head up quickly as the other spoke.  
“Here ya go!” He had a very happy undertone in his voice, making Jack smile slightly.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

_Love._  
 _Happy._  
 _Warm_.

Jack sat down on the normal bed and folded his hands in his lap, looking up at his friend. He watched as he rubbed his eyes tiredly and yawned.  
That disgusting feeling of love bubbled up, again.

“Well, I guess I'm gonna head back to bed.” He smiled warmly at the Irishman. “Night, Jack.”

“Night, Mark.”

And with that, Jack was left in the nearly dark room.  
Alone.


	6. Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack was scared.  
> No, scared didn't cut it.  
> He was _terrified._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having a bit of a bad night.
> 
> Enjoy!

There was a quiet knock on the door before the knob turned. Jack cursed himself for being in the habit of never locking the bathroom door.

Mark entered the room with a smile. “Hey, Jack. I’m making waffl-”  
His smile faded.  
His face turned pale.  
His eyes watered.

Jack wanted to die.

_Cold._  
_Scared._

Jack stared up at Mark as Mark stared down at Jack’s red and angry arm. Tears welled in his eyes and when he blinked, they began to fall.

Jack hated himself.

The Irishman grabbed a towel to cover his arm, making a mental note to buy Mark some new ones that _didn't_ have his blood on them.

 _Scared_.

“Mark, I-”  
The American took a step back.  
The Irishman felt his heart drop.

The flow of tears grew and Mark looked _so sad._

Jack wanted to cry.

“J-Jack…,” Mark stuttered, his eyes finally dragging up to meet Jack’s.  
They were rimmed red and bloodshot and Jack’s chest tightened.

“I’m so sorry, Mark…”  
He couldn't think of anything else.  
Not one thing.  
All he had was a handful of sorry’s and only one person to give them to.

Mark moved forward.  
Jack stepped back, this time.  
Mark flashed a concerned frown and sad brown eyes.  
Jack couldn't resist.

_Scared._  
_Cold._

Mark’s hand was shaking as he grabbed the towel, lifting it off of Jack’s wounded arm. He flinched and breathed unevenly, more tears escaping in the process.

“ _Jack_ …”

His voice was so sad and concerned and filled with…  
_Love_.

_Scared._  
_Love._

Jack swallowed thickly and hissed through his teeth as he felt a warm washcloth dab at his skin.

“I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Blue met brown and all sadness and fear seemed to melt away. Jack didn't trust his voice, so he only shook his head no. Mark gave a quick nod and continued cleaning the dried blood off of his best friend’s arm.

“I was stuck.”

Mark startled at the sudden noise, looking up at Jack and cocking his head.  
Jack swallowed harshly.

“I…” He gave a frustrated sigh. “It's my escape. When I can't deal with things or I'm feeling bad, I resort to it.” He pursed his lips. “I don't want to, trust me.” His eyes were glossy and he bit his lip.

Mark nodded, frown seemingly permanent on his gorgeous features.

 _Scared_.

What if Mark hated him?  
What if he kicked him out of his house?  
What if he never wanted to see him again?

Jack was scared.  
No, scared didn't cut it.  
He was _terrified_.

“Do you hate me?”  
Jack mentally slapped himself.  
He sounded so whiney.

Mark looked up at him.  
So much care in his eyes.  
So much concern.  
So much _love_.

He grabbed Jack’s free hand, making the Irishman look down.  
Mark laced their fingers together and Jack’s cheeks turned pink.

“I could _never_ hate you.”


	7. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in a long time, Jack felt warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone for being so kind to me when I posted the last chapter.  
> I'm okay, promise. Was just having a bad night.  
> I love you guys!! Mwah!!
> 
> But anyway.
> 
> Enjoy!

For the first time in a long time, Jack felt warm.  
The blanket he was under was warm.  
The mood in the room seemed warm.  
The body of his best friend curled up at his side was warm.  
He finally felt happy.

_Warm._  
_Happy._

He heard Mark yawn and he looked over, seeing the American rubbing his eyes.  
“You can go to sleep if ya want. I don't mind.”  
In the back of his mind, Jack hoped Mark would say no.

And he did.  
Mark met Jack’s gaze. He shook his head, giving a small smile.  
“I'm fine.”  
Jack smiled back and nodded, turning his attention back to the TV.

 _Strange_.

It was a strange feeling to him. Jack wasn't used to cuddling and watching romcoms.  
He could definitely get used to it, though.

The feeling of Mark’s skin on his made Jack blush. He wasn't used to feeling someone else's body heat, either.  
It made his stomach do flip-flops.

_Warm._  
_Happy._  
_Safe._

He felt different when he was in Mark’s presence.  
He felt like nothing could hurt him.  
He felt happy.  
He felt _safe_.

He glanced over at Mark, noticing how messy his red hair was and how hard he was trying to stay awake.  
Jack chuckled softly.

“Go to bed, Mark.”

The other shook his head, eyes still on the movie.  
“Wanna sleep here tonight.”  
His voice was scratchy and tired and Jack’s heart sped up.

_Safe._  
_Welcome._

Jack always felt like Mark actually liked him.  
With most people, he thought that their friendship was only an act.  
But with Mark, it was different. Along with a lot of other things, too.

He knew that he could be himself with Mark and not the made-up version.  
He was entirely Jack and it had been a long time since he could be that.  
It made him feel happy.

_Warm._  
_Love._

He heard soft snores beside him and his chest felt like it tightened.  
The sound was so quiet and endearing that Jack found himself keeping up with the rhythm exactly.

As if on autopilot, Jack did what he had wanted to for a long time.  
He leaned over and kissed Mark’s forehead gently. His cheeks flamed red and he quickly turned the TV off.

_Love._  
_Happy._  
_Warm._

After finally getting comfy on the too-small-for-two-grown-men sized bed, he sighed happily.

He soon fell asleep to Mark’s soft snores.  
He felt so warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orz, sorry if this chapter sucked. ;n;


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that moment, Jack realized:  
> He was _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jack awoke to the sound of birds chirping and Mark snoring in his ear.  
The Irishman groaned, already knowing that it was _far_ too early for him to be awake.

He didn't dare open his eyes, yet. He didn't really feel like going blind today.

_Warm_.

The body next to him was warm, along with the sun shining in through the window.

Jack finally cracked his eyes open, relieved to find out that it wasn't all that bright.

_Love._  
_Warm._

A smile painted his lips as he looked down at the sleeping form beside him.  
There laid Mark; limbs sprawled out in all different directions, hair a complete _mess_ on his head, blanket only covering half of his nearly-nude body.  
Jack’s heart swelled with affection.

_Love_.

He heard Mark whine and he forced his vision to come back into focus.

Mark was tossing in his sleep, an upset look gracing his face.  
Finally, the American rolled over and wrapped his heavy arm around Jack’s body. He nearly silenced, only the soft sounds of light snores being heard.

Jack felt like he was in heaven.

_Warm._  
_Love_.

As Jack listened to Mark’s sleepy noises and felt his arm tighten around his body, he felt himself smile.  
An actual smile.

He chuckled warmly, leaning down to place a sweet kiss upon the bird's nest that was the love of his life’s hair.

In that moment, Jack realized:  
He was _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for all of the love and support I have gotten for this fic.  
> I love you guys!! You're the best! ❤

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Love you guys! Stay awesome!
> 
> Have a request? Send me an ask! razorbladecass.tumblr.com


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